


how we win the war

by lynnpaper (27beansprouts)



Series: togruta, negotiator and human disaster [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Gets a Hug, Ahsoka Tano Needs a Hug, Crying, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Nightmares, don't send children to war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:48:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29001747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27beansprouts/pseuds/lynnpaper
Summary: The tear tracks on her face glisten in the dim light of Coruscant’s night. He brushes them out from under her eyes.or: Ahsoka has a nightmare. Anakin is there to pick up the pieces.
Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano
Series: togruta, negotiator and human disaster [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2129013
Comments: 18
Kudos: 181





	how we win the war

**Author's Note:**

> sweet angsty snips and skyguy feels

It's sometime around the middle the night. The temple is silent as a tomb. Anakin is seated on the couch in his quarters in only a loose tunic and pants, tinkering with his mechno hand, when he a quiet knock. He frowns, checking the chronometer on the wall. No one should be awake at this time.

Intrigued, he pads across the room, cautiously opening the door, only to be greeted by the sight of a small orange togruta with blue and white lekku stripes. His eyes widen in surprise, and he bends down so his face is level with hers.

"Hey, Snips. What—"

The question is muffled as Ahsoka crashes into his chest and he gets a face full of montrals. She flings his arms around him, squeezing tightly. Distantly, he thinks _Force, she's strong for a little thing._

Anakin gently pulls away, but her grip is unyielding. ”Snips? What's up?"

It's only when he realises she's shaking like a leaf that it registers. _Oh_ , he thinks. _She's crying_. Then _kriff, she's crying. Why is she crying?_

He reaches down the bond, trying to pinpoint what exactly sent his padawan into this state. He doesn't get very far before he's knocked over by a wave of terror, the image still clear in her mind — a clone lying on the ground, his leg ripped off, blood spurting onto the dirt —

_Oh, Ahsoka._

Anakin doesn't say anything — simply holds her tight as she cries. The battle today had been rough. They'd lost troops, ones he knew she’d been close to. He should have noticed something was wrong when she was unusually quiet on the way back to the temple, far from her typical snippy demeanour. He hadn't realised how much their deaths had affected her. It’s horrifying, he knows, how desensitised he has become to watching lives smothered out by blaster bolts on a battlefield.

His padawan feels so fragile in his arms as he gathers her into an embrace, her arms wrapped around his waist. She sobs again, her cheek to his chest. 

It's only minutes but it seems like a lifetime before Ahsoka grows silent once more. Her trembling ceases, and she traces the linen of his tunic with a tiny finger. Across the bond, Anakin detects guilt and shame, his heart breaking all over again. _Guilt because she mourns the deaths of her troops._ She is much too young for war. They all are.

"I'm sorry, master,” she whispers, and he tightens his arms around her, resting his chin on her montrals.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." The words are firm but gentle coming from his mouth. She allows them to wash over her, allows herself to find solace in the flagrant care and affection resonating from her master’s force signature.

Ahsoka takes a deep breath, bracing herself to spill the words she wishes she said earlier.

"If I wasn't so attached—"

"We would have lost more men, if you were not so attached."

Anakin pauses for a moment, letting it sink in. The doubt is clear on Ahsoka’s face. She is trying to understand, he tells himself. She doesn’t see it like he does.

Anakin smooths his flesh hand over her montrals. “We won because you cared, Ahsoka. Those troops who came back today? We’d have lost them too if you didn't turn back." It's true. She'd directly disobeyed his orders to leave the scene, recklessly throwing herself back into a warzone to fight alongside the clones. And it had been the right call in the end. She’s fought well, and Anakin was so damn proud. Even though she’d disobeyed him.

Her face crumples as the scene replays in her head. “So many,” she whispers, and the tears threaten to fall again. "I lost so many."

The grief in her voice is palpable in the air. Her brilliant blue eyes, usually bright and sparkling, are dull and empty. Anakin wants to wrap her up in durasteel armour, shield her forever from the cruel galaxy she’s had the misfortune to be born into. He wants to take her far away from the fighting and bloodshed. He wants to take her far away from the war.

The tear tracks on her face glisten in the dim light of Coruscant’s night. He brushes them out from under her eyes.

“You didn't lose more.”

They settle for so little, it’s a tragedy.

 _They’re gone_ , she mourns, and it echoes down the bond.

 _You did everything right_ , he responds. Yet a shard of uncertainty remains.

Ahsoka knows he wishes, just like her, that those troops had made it back alive. He wishes he could fix this the same way he can fix any machine.

But he can’t.

So she nods and melts into his arms, resting her head on his chest. She doesn’t realise how quiet it is, without the groans of dying clones and the screams of broken droids ringing in her ears. 

“You want to stay here tonight?” Anakin asks.

Ahsoka nods. She knows she is always welcome to sleep in his quarters. She doesn’t need to give him a reason.

Anakin straightens and takes her hand as they walk to his bedroom. She climbs onto the bed and drops her head onto the pillow, closing her eyes. Anakin follows, propping himself up against the wall. She still trembles with restrained sobs, but her breathing isn’t as erratic, and her force signature isn’t brimming with anguish anymore. He sits wide awake on the mattress next to her, stroking her montrals tenderly. It registers, somewhere in the back of his mind, that she must be exhausted. 

In another life, they wake up to a galaxy at peace. In another life, her youthful body does not move with the weariness of a soldier three times her age. 

Anakin stays up until Ahsoka’s breaths deepen and the creases on her forehead fade. He tucks her in, pulling the blanket up to her chin. She looks so small like this, every bit as young as she really is. Not like the soldier she has been forced to become.

Dimly, he realises he finally feels at peace, watching the blanket rise and fall as she breathes.

 _This is how we win the war,_ he thinks _. Not fighting what we hate, but saving what we love._

**Author's Note:**

> yes i took that last line from rose tico whaddaya gonna do about it
> 
> leave some spicy criticism in the comments!! i get that sweet dopamine hit when my inbox dings
> 
> (or find me on tumblr as [lynnpaper](https://lynnpaper.tumblr.com/)!)


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